


A fly on the wall (or a wolf in the woods)

by Kotanto



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Wolfie shenanigans, first fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26235121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kotanto/pseuds/Kotanto
Summary: Two chapters of Twilight's escapades in the woods as Wolfie, featuring Minish Four ch1 and some autumnal woodland in ch 2.
Relationships: Four & Hyrule & Legend & Sky & Time & Twilight & Warriors & Wild & Wind (Linked Universe), Four & Twilight (Linked Universe), Legend & Twilight (Linked Universe), Sky & Twilight (Linked Universe), Twilight & Wild (Linked Universe), Twilight & Wind (Linked Universe)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 215





	1. Little Secret

**Author's Note:**

> HEY YOU have a nice day, please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a note here initially but it got deleted ;-;

Morning sun trickled gently through gaps betwixt the leaves and branches of the forest canopy stretching that curved and wove like cathedral arches aglow with green, backlit sunlight. The blanket of young rustling leaves stretched tall and high above Twilight’s head. Well, higher above than usual, because right now he was around half his usual height and covered in thick, dark, wiry fur. 

His powerful paws didn’t make a sound as he gingerly padded through the lush undergrowth, loam sinking gently as he picked his way around a particularly twisted patch of gnarled oaken roots. It was a nice spring morning, the air laden with morning birdsong, the chittering on insects just waking up and stretching their wings. The tantalizing scents and sounds were blanketed serenely by the cool of the morning, and Twilight would’ve been insane if he didn’t get out into this forest at least once. 

He could sense it. It was in the way the grasses and shrubbery rustled gently as tiny paws skittered below their young green growth. It was in the way deer hadn’t turned tail and fled as he stalked boldly through their terrain. The way the entire forest and everything in it mulled about with a relaxed pace and gentle hum. It was in the way not a single patch of rich, earthy, leaf-laden loam bore the tangy musk of some predator’s scent marking. This was a forest unacquainted with wolves and the like, and Twilight didn’t mind. 

He stopped and raised his head as a soft whispering whistle rustled through the trees ahead, ready to embrace it. A warm breeze swept through, cutting the lively hum and buzz of the forest’s little things with the tickling whoosh of the gentle wind. He liked how it ruffled his ear fur and wove between the thick fur of his pelt. It brought with it new scents. A cold, fresh, stone-like sensation, likely a creek of some lying under cool shade up ahead. The gentle musty aroma of warm dry grass, old twigs, dusty down. A bird's nest of some sort, if the quiet peeps and chirps that floated on the breeze were anything to go by. 

An iron twang with odd notes of something floral and woodsy trailing fast behind it on the tail end of the breeze.

Now that was interesting, what would the smithy be doing so far out in the forest? 

Twilight felt curiosity bubble up under his already moving paw pads, and his snout bowed downwards to track the familiar scent of his comrade. Pausing abruptly as his nose snuffed up some dirt, he sneezed loudly then continued onwards. A songbird chirruped loudly as if mocking him for inhaling a bit of earth, so he flicked an ear absently in its direction to tell the puffy-chested little warbler that he didn’t care. He spent a good minute snuffling about a berry bush, where Four’s odd scent seemed to lay about heavily. He must’ve spent some time here, picking berries perhaps? 

With the gentle flexing of sinewy muscles and the fshh of leaves kicking up in his wake, Twilight sprung away from the bush and continued along the trail, allowing his pace to quicken and slow however he pleased. It was entertaining to do that, to do what you want when you want it. There was freedom in being a wolf. The great wolf wondered if this sort of curiosity that made him want to move and track and push further into the undergrowth is what drove his cub and the traveler to keep walking until they got lost in the thick of a forest. He could understand the walking, he could not understand how they lost their way so easily. Yet again, they didn’t have a nose that could smell something a thirty minute’s walk away or ears that could hear the crunch of a traveler’s footsteps two hours before wolf and traveler ever met. 

The forest got cooler as he trotted onwards, and cool ivy vine still wet with a thin layer of shining dew brushed gently against his nose, leaving it pleasantly cool. There was less a general ambiance of warmth that had floated about the lighter forest, and more so the sort of cool, grey, pleasant darkness of a sect of land that the sun had not penetrated just yet for the day. The young underbrush thickened and scraped gently against the sides of his pelt, letting him know where he was, letting him feel when something small skittered along a nearby branch or when a bird lighted from the ferns. 

With the warm must of bird’s nests and skittering woodland mice absent, he found that Four’s distinctive scent stood out starkly against the cool earthy tones that wafted from the forest floor. 

One thing was interesting, however. Four smelled small. 

Wild had asked him about this before, how could something smell small? You can’t smell size just like you can’t hear colors or see sounds. It was something his cub didn’t quite grasp, which was understandable. The smelling of size was wholly and entirely one of the perks of being a wolf sometimes.

But indeed, Four smelled very small. Much smaller than normal. The delicately floral notes of the smithy’s aroma pooled lightly in small, mouseprint-sized dips in the earth, the metallic tang now only detectable on the roots of small grasses. The cool, but now warming, scents of towering trees and an expanse of loam seemed to open up then crash in around the space where the smell of small gardens and ironworking should be, leaving only a crumb-trail of his comrade's ethereal scent. 

Twilight raised his snout skyward and closed his eyes, letting different smells come to him. His mind picked through all the sensations, bubbling water, sun-warmed leaves high above- no, too high. He needed to think lower, much lower. The soft musty fur of mice in their burrows, the cool haze of leaf-rot and growing things pushing up from the ground below, a flowery pinprick of metal amidst a sea of warmer scents.

Found you. Twilight picked up into a quick trot, paws thrumming softly upon a gradually warming cool forest floor. The woods opened up from the swath of thick growth, the underbrush becoming more sparse as the warmth and ambient morning glow returned to reflect about the air. Everything smelled less cool and gritty, the world opening up to the wideness of a leafy cavern supported by towering pillars of trees.

With his tail flicking out behind him for balance, the wolf gracefully cleared a babbling brook in a single leap, touching down on the sun-warmed stone with dry leaves swirling about the fur of his paws as he landed. He paused and took a moment to look around with pricked ears and a gently sniffing nose.

A few trees had been felled here, and birds flitted to and fro above where their stumps jutted awkwardly out of the soft earth. That’s when a small figure made itself knows to Twilight.

It was tiny, no more than mouse-sized, though it was not a mouse. Its pelt was colored in what Twilight guessed to be blue, red, green, and purple. His color vision wasn’t very reliable at the moment. The small figure sat with his legs swinging over the side of the stump like one might do when admiring a view from a cliff, a small back facing Twilight.

A twig crackled beneath his great paw, and the tiny little Hylian whipped around to look up at him with a greenish and red tint to his indescribable hazel eyes. Given Four’s small size at the moment and the way he moved towards the wolf with so nimble a gait, everything about the hero struck Twilight as distinctly mouse-like. 

Twilight padded forward gently, assuming, as usual, the guise of a gentle lone wolf tailing after a band of heroes. He lowered his head to gently sniff at the small Hylian, who’s hair waved gently as he sniffed. Four smiled and laughed quietly, reaching a hand up to gently pat Twilight on the nose. It was almost eerie how that tiny, delicate little hand felt so much like the small dexterous pads of a mouse’s paw. They met eyes for a moment, and Four cocked his head, a smile lighting upon his teensy features. Twilight felt his eyes crossing to focus on the little hero staring down his snout.

“Hmm, correct me if I’m wrong, but..” Twilight was one hundred percent sure that his canine face was doing something similar to the face of one trying not to laugh. He couldn’t help but think that Four’s tiny little voice coupled with his tiny little hands and tiny little self was anything but intrinsically and wholly adorable. “..Twilight?” The little figure asked.

Twilight stiffened involuntarily, ears flattening against his head. Of course. Of course, Four would figure it out. His markings weren’t exactly subtle, in fact, they were anything but. Was it just the markings or could his comrade sense the magic? The dark magic. His mind shifted very suddenly into a more wolf-like mindset, burying all those sentient worries and feelings behind an unreadable canine face. 

Four simply smiled up at him. “It’s a wonderful form. Is it fun to be a wolf?” Twilight nodded very slowly, the unease beginning to settle from his raised hackles and being replaced with the knowledge that he could trust his little friend.

Small hands patted his nose once more, that content little grin settling upon Four’s tiny features. “No one else knows I’m small- well-..” He trailed off, eyes flickering all sorts of tones almost as rapidly as his expression was changing in the morning light. Twilight wondered if that’s how he looked when he was musing to himself. The small Hylian mumbled to himself for a moment in tones so soft and quiet that even Twilight’s powerful hearing couldn’t distinguish his syllables. After a moment, he promptly looked back up and finished his sentence. “I think I’d like to keep it that way.”

Twilight dipped his head in an assuring nod of confirmation, tail wagging slowly as Four patted his nose once more with the sort of cheeky smile one bore from inside jokes, shared whispers, and another term Twilight couldn’t quite put his finger (toe? paw?) on.

With a gentle tilt of his head, Four’s small mousy face looked up at Twilight’s great wolfish one. “Looks like we both have a little secret.” The rancher was sure it looked as if he was smiling.

Ah, those were the words he was looking for; a little secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Four and Twilight’s dynamic, but I’m not too experienced with writing either of them. We’ll see how this ends up developing I guess :)


	2. Early Linktober Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twilight takes a stroll through some autumnal woodland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn’t like how chapter two turned out, so now I’m doing this. Most all chapters from here on out, as far as I can see, will be Twilight Wolfie shenanigans describing how he sees the world around him, because gosh darn that's really fun to write. (Also sort of counts for Linktober I think? Yeah sure. It’s fall, bois.)

Twilight had smelled it coming yesterday, and goddesses was he excited.

The warm, close wind had given way to a light, cool, vastly open-smelling sort of wispy breeze that he could pick out a mile away even in his Hylian form. Perhaps it was just the way his brain was wired, to get excited about the changing of seasons. After all, autumn was harvest month, and that always meant lots of exciting things happening at a farming village like Ordon. He smiled, imagining the village kids lugging pumpkins away from their patch and the lively bustle of his hometown this time of year. Was it even really autumn back in Ordon? Or was it technically all seasons, because of the time travel thing and they weren’t there to confirm. Or no seasons? Because they weren’t there so that time and place didn’t really exist at _this_ time and place- 

Wolfie snorted and shook out his thick coat, clearing his head and breathing deeply to allow the swirling, delicate must of cool umber leaves and lofty grey skies to fill his chest, the chill of the air tickling the bottoms of his lungs. It was too nice a fall morning to be thinking about time paradoxes and the state of the universe. 

He had been on duty for the last watch, woken early by Wild and able to watch the dark grey blanket of cloud crawl and creep through a star-laden sky until it was naught but a flat, cottony expanse that lay over the land like a light, chilly quilt. Though still technically a form of twilight, sunrise never felt as sad as a distant, dusky, scarlet sunset. Twilight was grateful for that. It would be a bit of a downer to always start the day on a sad note. 

Dawn’s earl grey fingers brushed wispy clouds and lit their little forest clearing with a gentle brush of grey ambient light. He stood from his dutiful seat by the charred remains of last night’s fire and stretched; tail up, nose down, and shoulder blades pinching satisfyingly as his lower back arched and the muscles stretched pleasantly. He did wish that wolves could distinguish between a berry-red scarlet and a deep viridian green, instead of seeing bright grass as a sore ochre smudge across the land and the gleam of an apple as a similarly out-of-place hue. The changing of the leaves was always a pleasure, but he supposed he could enjoy it as they set out to travel for the day. Right now, with cardinals boldly whistling their single note song into the spacious sky and mourning doves offering their lowing coos as feathers ruffled against the chill, right now was the time to be a wolf. And Twilight didn’t mind in the slightest. 

His powerful frame padded silently about camp, paws gently nudging fragile leaves aside as he paced a slow circle around the ashes of yesternight’s cooking fire. All were sleeping soundly still, some more than most, if Sky’s occasional low, rumbling snore was anything to go by. A squirrel tentatively inched down the smooth trunk of a maple, vaguely chittering something about checking up on his food cache before skittering back up into the thick of the tree with a generous shower of dying leaves fluttering to the cool, dry soil in his wake. 

The wolf stared up after him, and took a moment to curiously paw at the leaves that fluttered closer and closer to the ground as his mind slowly turned with the casual gait of a peaceful morning. He himself didn’t have a food cache to inspect, but it would be good to do a quick patrol of the area. It’d be quite a shame if the wonderful stillness of the cool morning, cut only by the warbling of birdsong and dry rustle of the leaves, was ruined by an unexpected horde of monsters with no appreciation for a good morning. One last stretch, claws flexing and biting back one canine whine of an early morning yawn, the wolf pricked his ears alertfully and stalked silently and confidently into the underbrush, leaving the group behind.

He wouldn’t pace out of earshot of camp, he’d need to be close enough to dodge gnarled roots and scraggly underbrush if there be any need to rush back to camp, but something about the light chill tickling his shoulders and fluffing his fur, the gentle hint of a distant cloud-veiled sun barely blossoming through that calm grey blanket of the sky told him there’d be no need. There was no trace of the rancid stench of bokoblin or the sly, oily grit of a Lizafos. Instead, a wide world was opening up to him, like a painstakingly crafted map or an immensely detailed painting, just not one you could see.

The soft scent of mice all stuffed up in their burrows pockmarked the leaf-coated terrain, mingling with the cornish and gentle scent of foraged seeds and the sharp, sweet tang of long-dry berries. The familiar tickle of dry grass laden with woody seed and oat-smelling chaff brushed the back of Twilight’s nostrils pleasantly as he bent his head to snuffle about a clearing of dry, pale, prickly yellow grass encircle by towering maples suspended in the stillness of a peaceful morning. It didn’t smell quite like the grain harvest you’d find in a village. It was tougher, wilder, with a harder and almost wood-like scent that was small and wiry in comparison to the generous nutty softness of cracked domestic oats on the grinding mill. But familiar nonetheless, and his wolfish eyes crinkled slightly in the hint of a smile brought about by a whiff of home. 

The trees had their scents too. Maples were firm and unbending, pillars of stark, strong, sharp smelling sap encased tightly together behind a skin of bark, a smell waiting to be released at the slightest scratch of bark or notch in the wood, like a bowstring ready to snap that never did. It brought a sort of bright, tense sharpness to the otherwise dusty, musty, rusty world that sprawled out underneath the ashen blanket of the sky, like change frozen in time, waiting to spring to fruition. The wolf knew, as he edged rightwards to keep the proper radius from camp, that the change wouldn’t snap into clarity till after the dead of winter and well into the distant spring. Winter was when things really fell still, here and now, everything was still changing.

In the summer, leaves are lush and generously flexible, brushing and sliding against each other in the wind like suspended fragments of oilskin cloth, backlit spectacularly with the glaring sun as the tops of trees shone with reflected rays. Autumn was the exact opposite. Leaves crinkled, crackled, and crumbled far above Twilight’s head as he gingerly padded along his patrol course, the paws of his pads cooling satisfyingly against the chill of sprawling, gnarled tree roots that had all of last night to grow cold. He could hear the leaves dying, he could hear as the supple green shine of summertime slipped into various stages of withering. Aspens kept their strong, sinewy grip upon their branches, the yellow leaves smattering against each other as the wind blew through and kicked up leaf litter in it’s swirling wake. Oaks and maples sounded much more dry, the fragile chorus of husky shells of seasons past sweeping through the forest and tickling the tips of the great wolf’s ears. 

He stopped abruptly in his tracks, meeting eyes with a distant deer who’s white tail had flagged straight up at the sight of him. The poor doe probably didn’t know he would never lay claw or tooth on her, her fear-scent smacking him upside the face in a panicked pulse of thrumming heartbeat and the urgent, malformed, scent of fear.

Gently and deliberately, he turned about, ears relaxed and pointing away from the creature and pawsteps now treading a little more noisily along the crispy leaf litter. It was distinctly unlike the silent stalking gait of a predator, and the doe seemed to catch on, her fear-scent fading on the bluster winds. He hoped she had a good morning. 

Dawn’s pale grey fingers had strengthened to steady hands, seizing the cloud cover in her gradually warming clutches and beginning to dissipate the ashen quilt into a thin layer of barely-woven cotton canvas. The sun hovered just above the treetops, ever rising with is lazy autumn gait. A domestic scent wafted forward from the camp, the warm, homely scent of warm pumpkin accentuated with spice and… was that some egg as well? Regardless, it seemed his cub had awoken and was preparing breakfast for the day, and the shuffling of blankets sliding off and boots being strapped on for the day drifted lightly over the wind as the world groggily stretched towards the sun. 

Twilight made pace for the camp, ears swiveling to catch the last echoes of so-distant birdsong and nose twitching to capture the hushed apple-ish aroma of chamomile blooms and sharp herbal tinge of sage hiding in the underbrush as he shifted back to his human form in a dark shimmering apparition of dark magic. He was pleased to find that the gentle and almost affectionate nip of chilly air upon his nose and under the soles of his feet remained, even as he bore skin and hero’s garments instead of wiry wolfish fur.

He walked back into camp, greeted by early morning chatter and the beginning of the day’s usual banter as heroes awoke and readied for the crisp autumn day ahead. Twilight smiled warmly as Legend very pointedly told Warriors he’d rather freeze to death in winter than wear pants. Being a wolf sometimes was nice, but being Hylian had its merits too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We don’t get fall where I'm from, but it’s still my favorite season and I hope you enjoyed this as much as Wolfie did
> 
> I’ll have you know that I had my head in a bag of bird treats for three minutes trying to decide what seeds smelled like. 
> 
> Have a great fall and remember to always eat your cinnamon straight up.

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes if you yawn at a dog they yawn back. i encourage you to try this.


End file.
